How You Remind Me
by lothmeldo
Summary: RWHP Slash. Harry is dealing with an upcoming battle, and Ron is trying to be supportive. Into the mix comes Draco Malfoy with his issues and Ron's family with theirs. Sequel to "Harry and Ron in the Seventh Year". Five-part WIP.


This is Part One of FIVE of a WIP. Oh, and it is Rated R for sex, swearing, and an indecent flobberworm. This story is also SLASH, which I now know is not the name of some fifty-something leather-clad biker dude who ditched his SS number back in the seventies.  
  
Note: This is a continuation of HARRY AND RON IN THE SEVENTH YEAR. Events take place about a month after the Epilogue (Chpt 10).  
  
As always, all this is owned by J.K. Rowling. My kooky ideers are my own, at the very least.

* * *

The prophecy came without much warning, and it came from the most unexpected source.  
  
I can honestly say I didn't expect it. Frankly, I'd been feeling quite jealous about the whole Harry-Draco thing anyway, but then...  
  
One o'clock A.M., Tuesday morning. There was a great commotion going on outside the Gryffindor common room, and the first person there was Hermione. She opened the door to find a disheveled Draco Malfoy.  
  
Malfoy pushed his way in, eyes wild and blood shot, demanding to see Harry. This wasn't hard; Harry and I had been the first of our room out on the balcony. When Malfoy's eyes locked with Harry's...Malfoy looked wild, but relieved.  
  
Harry met Malfoy face to face, whereupon Malfoy 'asked' to see Harry alone. Harry looked at me as if expecting me to say 'Yeah, fine, go.' Truth was, I wanted him to say that I had to be there too.  
  
They went. Hermione and I speculated a bit on what on Earth would motivate Malfoy to come to our room looking like he did. The only thing we could come up with, tongue-in-cheek, was a hippogriff attack.  
  
It was far more serious. Harry didn't come back that night. I saw Harry next at our class the next day, late. Professor McGonagall didn't say a thing as Harry, now looking more disheveled than Malfoy had looked, came in and threw his things on our desk.  
  
"Harry," I whispered.  
  
"Mr. Weasley, would you like to please pay attention?" The Professor, far more diligent about squashing talking than normal. I nodded curtly.  
  
It was lunch when I found out. Harry had given Hermione and I the silent treatment all morning, and at our insistence, he relented.  
  
"Draco had a dream. About me."  
  
This apparently was supposed to strike us as incredibly revolutionary. At my blank look, and Hermione's look of 'Yeah?...', he sighed.  
  
"He saw...Voldemort...die."  
  
My mouth hung open, and Hermione closed hers. Both our eyes were wide.  
  
"Not that that's a bad thing...but why do we believe him?" I asked.  
  
"Dammit, Ron, don't start."  
  
I recoiled at his snap, and his face softened.  
  
"Just...it was very convincing. I...saw it." Harry's voice dropped to a whisper, and Hermione and I leaned in. "I saw him die."  
  
My face must have looked like it did when I was confronted with Aragog. Harry didn't even look at me. He stared at his pasty. His face was unreadable.  
  
"So...what are people going to do about this?" Hermione asked, more matter-of- fact than I could be.  
  
"Dumbledore is still considering his options. Malfoy was..." Harry stopped.  
  
"He was..." I asked, drawing out the word.  
  
"Malfoy was freaked." Harry locked his eyes with mine.  
  
"Who killed him?" I asked, quite stupidly.  
  
Harry gave me a look. "Ron, remember? It's either me or him." Harry added something in a whisper after that.  
  
"What?" Hermione asked.  
  
"Nothing."  
  
That night was miserable. I felt angry and hurt that Harry had not only ditched me, but didn't feel it necessary to let me in on the real story. There were people in our room and in the common room, so we sat in a corner together whispering about my insecurity and his indignance. I wasn't mad enough to not sleep next to him, but I was mad enough to not snuggle. He was reticent enough to sneak over to my bed when everyone else had gone to sleep and lay next to me.  
  
"Ron..."  
  
My eyes shot open, expecting a conversation.  
  
"Yeah, Harry?"  
  
There was a long pause. I began to wonder if Harry had fallen asleep.  
  
"Ron, remember when...when I saw you, right after you woke up?"  
  
I sat up and leaned on a shoulder, careful not to make the bed creak too much.  
  
"Well," Harry continued, "I've been...thinking about that. About us."  
  
My stomach fell three feet at least, which was saying something considering I was laying down. What came back up was a touch of my temper.  
  
"What have you decided?" I said, bitterness leaking into my tone.  
  
Harry, seemingly bitten, continued hesitantly. "I l-...I mean, I lo-..."  
  
My heart sank this time. He'd been able to say it when I looked like I was dying on a bed, but now that we were here, well, he just couldn't bring himself to say it.  
  
"Yeah, Harry?" I interrupted. "I love you too. Now you don't have to say it." I'm sure that my voice came out far more hurt than I intended.  
  
There was a moment of silence.  
  
"I feel so goddamn confined."  
  
Sudden, unexpected. My mouth dropped open slightly.  
  
"I mean, I cant hold your hand in public. There's this weight, this guilt, that if I do..." He trailed off. "I dunno. I want to. I just can't."  
  
"Harry, you don't have to explain-"  
  
"I cant kiss you in public, either. When that damn Creevey kid looks at me, I want to push my lips to yours and see if his camera lights on fire."  
  
I openly chuckled. I felt Harry's hand fall lightly on my stomach, and I wasn't angry enough to push him away. He came in a little closer, and the length of his body was now spreading warmth along eighty percent of mine. I felt his face up next to mine, and I shivered. I could feel him smile.  
  
Into my ear: "I haven't done this enough." As if his breath wasn't enough, he began to nibble on my lobe, and I felt a shiver run over my body again. His mouth moved lower, lightly nipping at my neck, and when he got to my adams apple, his body was very close to being on top of mine. I slipped my hands around his waist and pulled him full on me, which sent another wave of pleasure through my body.  
  
"No, I should say not," I said, lightly chiding.  
  
Then his mouth found mine, and we got into a rhythm of kissing and feeling. I was trying very hard to not make noise; I knew how loud kissing could be in a room devoid of all other sound. Between that and the moaning, that'd be a sure give away to anyone awake in the slightest.  
  
A hand reached into my pants, and I let out a long breath, head upturned. Harry took advantage of this and bit my chin, and then licked down to the top of my nightshirt.  
  
"Hm. This, off. Now." Though the words were commanding, he wrapped his hands around the bottom of my shirt and pulled it up for me. I arched my back to allow the garment to slip over my head. Harry's hands followed in quick, hungry grasps that shot from my shoulders to my waistband. My hands were trying to wrench off his shirt, then trying to pull some part of his bottom off. I succeeded with the bottom, and he pressed up against me, breathing heavily as he did so.  
  
It was at this point I knew he wasn't going to back down, for whatever reason. There had been heavy petting sessions, but when things got this far, we'd take them all the way then.  
  
Harry now sat up to straddle me, and I did everything I could to feel him up in my pinned position. When I felt the lip of my bottoms lifted again, I gasped, not quietly. My bottoms and pants were taken off in a swift motion, and Harry made himself comfortable on my erection. Then the lips were on mine again, Harry pushing, me feeling, lips searching and wetting. The climax came in a flash of intense pleasure, which Harry extracted out quite nicely. My hands did the rest of the work for him, his hands cupped around my chin, lips against mine.  
  
I didn't fall asleep right after like I usually did. I lay awake, holding the midsection and head of Harry close to me. When I mumbled something, he mumbled back.  
  
"I said, what brought that on?" My voice was tired and thick.  
  
Harry sighed into my chest. It was long and sounded satisfying. "Taking advantage of every moment. Life is too short."  
  
The seeming prophecy of this statement made my brow furrow. "Not too short, I hope."  
  
I could feel Harry smile against my chest.  
  
"I've been lousy," he said.  
  
Shocked, I wanted to comfort him and tell him this wasn't so, though I felt he was right. He nodded.  
  
"I have been. I almost lost you, and that drove me on. But then..." I gripped him tighter.  
  
"Not going to let you go, mate," I said. I meant it.  
  
Harry chuckled slightly. For a moment, I thought it was laced with irony, but the feeling passed.  
  
The week passed with little drama. The next two evenings Harry spent a good deal of time with Draco. This might have bothered me if Harry hadn't come back to me and slept in my bed.  
  
Toward the end of the week, I got a letter from mum saying they were planning a family visit to St. Mungo's. She invited Harry to come along also, and thinking that he had nothing to do that weekend I figured he could come.  
  
That's when I found out about his 'Draco Plans,' as he called them.  
  
"Just talk time. He is pretty sensitive right now."  
  
"Harry, the boy is a prat, plain and simple." I crossed my arms. "Sensitive? As a hunk of flobberworm."  
  
Harry bit his lips. It seemed to be a nervous impulse. "Ron, did you forget that he killed his own damn father?"  
  
My arms flew from under my armpits. "Have you forgotten that his father helped incapacitate _mine_?" Realizing my voice had raised a good deal, I straightened my back and returned to a normal tone. "Where the hell are your priorities?"  
  
Harry looked down, obviously unable to answer the question. I guess he wanted to tell me that his priorities were with my family as he went prancing off with Malfoy.  
  
"I can relate to him, Ron."  
  
"You didn't kill your parents. His dad helped You-Know-Who do that too."  
  
Harry let out a whistle of exasperation. "Ron, now you're being a prat."  
  
I could feel my face getting red. "If you don't come, it's not just me you'll be disappointing."  
  
That was the hammer stroke that hit the nail on the head.  
  
An angry face looked up at me. "Dammit, don't you think I know that? Do you think it's just me that wants us to meet? Do you think it's just him that benefits?"  
  
His words echoed in the silence after.  
  
"Fine, Harry. Sorry to bother you, me being your best friend and all." I ran away like the brave Gryffindor that I am, all the way to our room.  
  
But that Saturday, when my mother came to pick me up, Harry showed up next to me at the door.  
  
"Oh, hello, Harry," mum said, somewhat tentatively. I had told her Harry had other plans, and I'm sure I sounded resentful.  
  
"Hi, Molly." Harry looked behind him, and sure of no one watching us, grasped my hand for a squeeze. Mum had already turned and walked out the door.

* * *

Next time on ACOHARITSY (it's an acromnym):  
More plots revealed!  
A Draco POV!  
I learn that Americans don't know that 'pants' are English for 'underwear'!  
  
As I said above, there will be four more installments. To lessen any suckage that may occur, be sure to REVIEW and tell me what you thought! Most helpful are constructive comments, but I am not above blobs of praise.  
  
Thanks to CircularInfinity. Why? Because, you are you. And to m477tf revisited. Cause I'm pretty sure you'll review. :) 


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